Son of the Scalpel
by Channel D
Summary: Jimmy is summoned to go undercover, posing as a doctor, to crack a baby-smuggling ring. His partner is Ziva, who is less than thrilled about being "married" to him. Written for the NFA "And Baby Makes Three" challenge. Five chapters; now complete.
1. Saturday Afternoon at the Ice Cream Shop

**Son of the Scalpel**

**by channelD**

_written for:_ the NFA _And Baby Makes Three_ challenge. The aim is to create a story involving two characters and a baby.  
_rating:_ K plus  
_genre:_ light drama/fluff  
_pairing:_ Ziva and Jimmy (Zimmy?)  
_other characters:_ the team, and just about everyone else  
_setting_: Washington DC, May

- - - - -

disclaimer: I still own nothing of NCIS.

- - - - -

**Chapter One: Saturday afternoon at the Ice Cream Shop**

Jimmy Palmer lifted the crying baby out of the stroller, and expertly put it to his shoulder. "Aw, there, there, Ike," he said soothingly. They were stopped outside the ice cream parlor, and the crowd out on the streets around DuPont Circle on this fine spring day flowed around them, with little complaint.

"Will he be quiet enough if we take him inside, do you think?" Ziva asked, dubiously. Her mouth watered for ice cream, but she didn't want to be part of a scene.

" '_Dear',"_ Gibbs said into his mike from the van parked nearby_. "Remember to call Palmer 'dear' now and then. You must love him; you married him, after all."_ He grinned, and so did Tony, sitting next to him. Tim, in the back of the van, only rolled his eyes.

"It is not a real marriage," Ziva murmured. "We are under cover."

"_You got a baby out of it somehow,"_ Tony said into his mike. _"And you can spare me the details of that…Unless they're really juicy details, in which case you can put them on Facebook_—ow!" He recoiled at the Gibbs slap.

"It is not my baby," Ziva persisted, as the threesome entered the shop.

Jimmy scanned the flavor charts. "Oh, good; they have sugar-free chocolate chip mint. I'll take a double scoop of that in a cup," he said.

"_Look for the suspect,"_ Gibbs directed.

Ziva's gaze swept the room. Of course Palmer would be absorbed in the ice cream. He wasn't an agent. He shouldn't be in on this. Oh, if things had only been different…

- - - - -

_**Four days before…**_

"It will be an unusual op," said Jenny. "Not out-of-sensibility unusual, but unusual for us."

"I thought the FBI usually did the weird crap," said Gibbs, amused despite himself. "We need two agents to go undercover to get the goods on a baby-smuggling ring because of a dead Marine and his wife? Jen, if you called me up here to volunteer my team, well, I can't think of any group less likely to fulfill this without squabbling and breaking cover. You remember how David and DiNozzo did the one time they were sent undercover as a couple." He laughed.

"I just want one of your team. Ziva. With her skills, she's our best agent of either sex to protect a baby."

Gibbs sobered with lightning speed. "A baby? You're using a real live baby in this op??"

"The role of the baby has already been cast. Shane Oliver MacInnis, age 9 months, already a trooper, having appeared in two baby-themed TV commercials. He's the son of agents Marcie and Dan MacInnis, of the Pentagon field office. They understand the risks and trust us." She handed him a photo of a pink-cheeked, happy baby. "Yes, there is a slight risk, but we'll do everything we can to minimize even that. A baby is vital to this op; our couple has to pose as parents unable to have another child of their own and seeking to adopt while bypassing the legal red tape. Most of the time, whenever possible, we'll use a dummy in place of Shane."

"So who's going to play the baby's father?"

"Now, there's an issue. The father has to have—or be able to pretend very well to have—a certain background. Medical in nature. Dr. Alex Rast, who, with his wife, really was looking for such an adoption, until they became frightened and went underground; eventually surfacing long enough to talk to us about it. The Rasts had known the Marine couple who were murdered. The Rasts always used code names in the dealing, so none of the people in the adoption ring knew his real name, or what he looked like. They only know that he was willing to provide some medical knowledge in exchange for keeping their transaction costs down."

"Do we have anyone with those skills?"

"There's an agent in Norfolk who was a former male nurse, but he's down with a broken leg. So we're going to have to be inventive."

"Inventive? How?" asked Gibbs. "You can't give agents a fast track to medical knowledge."

Again Jenny smiled. Gibbs was starting to become wary of those smiles. "That's why we're going to approach the problem from the other direction," she said, and buzzed her intercom. "Send him in, please, Cynthia."

A moment later a nonplussed Jimmy Palmer entered the room.

"Oh, no, Jen," said Gibbs.

- - - - -

_**Back to Saturday…**_

The meeting with the so-far-nameless representative of the baby smuggling ring should go off without a hitch. Another good agent, Yancey, would be there acting as undercover backup.

Any doubts the team might have had about Jimmy's acting abilities had long faded. He seemed like a natural father. "There's so much we don't know about our Autopsy gremlin," said Tony.

"If you're asking 'do I think he has a secret family stashed away somewhere', the answer's no." said Tim. "I know he's had some pediatrics training in medical school; maybe that's it."

Ziva relayed the action on the radio to them_. "Palmer's bringing the ice cream now,"_ she murmured. _"I am sitting at a table with Baby Ike. I see Agent Yancey about 20 feet away. He sees us."_

"What kind of ice cream?" Tony asked, and had to endure a Gibbs slap for that.

"Never mind that," he said into his mike. "What do you see?"

"_Here you go, sweetheart,"_ they heard Jimmy say to Ziva_. "And I brought an extra spoon in case Ike wants to try some. Do you want some, my little man?"_

They heard the baby gurgle, followed by a string of soft _na-na-na-na-na-na_ babbling. _"Would you like a little sherbet, Ike?"_ said Ziva. Cooing noises, followed by Jimmy saying proudly, _"That's my boy."_

"Do you see the suspects, Ziva?" Gibbs demanded on the phone line.

"_Yes, I think he just entered the shop. I am wearing the red scarf, as was pre-arranged; he should approach us soon."_

"We should have rigged a camera," Tim lamented, and looked like he was going to continue his criticisms, but held himself back.

"We shouldn't have let Palmer be part of this operation," Tony said more harshly. "He is not, nor will he _ever be_, an agent. He's our weak link."

"Yancey has a camera, and Palmer will do fine," Gibbs said, trying to sound like he believed that.

"_He's coming this way,"_ they heard Jimmy say softly to them. _"About 6'3", 180 lbs…"_

"_You are Base and Ball?" _

Tim increased the volume to pick up the voice better.

"_I'm Base,"_ said Jimmy. _"And this is our son, Bat Boy."_

"_How clever. I am Creydel."_

In the van, Tim hurriedly tapped at the computer. "No match under that name…"

"How's he spelling it?" Tony mused. "K-r-a-y-d-e-l? C-r-e-i-d-l-e?"

"Trying all homophonic possibilities…_Duh!_"

"What is it, McGee?"

"Sometimes the obvious answer is the one. We're talking about babies? The system found documents on a suspected smuggler known only as 'Cradle'. C-r-a-d-l-e-. It says, hmmm… he's turned up mostly on the West Coast, but was believed to be extending his operation. No picture of him…"

Gibbs spoke again into his mike, on another channel. "Yancy. Get a picture of him." Then he leaned back to listen to Tim again.

"…believed to be a significant ringleader…never arrested; well of course not. There'd be a picture if he had been. No fingerprints, no description. Just like a shadow. There are doubts that he even exists. He makes his money from the people he delivers the babies to, but there are hints of another, even darker, business he has."

"What is it?" asked Gibbs.

Tony, who'd been continuing to listen to the conversation in the ice cream shop, interrupted him with a nudge.

"_I need a sign of your good faith,"_ said Cradle.

"_We have money,"_ Ziva said in the low tone all three had been using. _"Hand me the diaper bag…dear,"_ she added, remembering Gibbs' command.

"_Not money. Not yet,"_ said Cradle. _"Doctor…Base, I need your services. Come with me. Ms. Ball, you can return home and wait for a phone call."_

Tony's and Tim's sigs were in their hands. "Should we move in, boss?" Tony asked grimly.

Gibbs, too, was concerned. "Not just yet. Let's see if they can talk their way out of this."

It all depended on Ziva. She was trained; Jimmy was not. They could only hope that he would stay quiet and let her save him.


	2. Jimmy as Prisoner

_**Chapter 2: Jimmy as Prisoner**_

- - - - -

Time seemed to stop for Jimmy. He was in a fix, he knew. They didn't teach you in medical school how to save yourself from threatening crooks. He swallowed, and tried to stay calm. Ziva would know what to do.

_"Wait!"_ Ziva cried just as Cradle gripped Jimmy's arm. "Dear, you cannot do this today. Your mother and father are coming over for dinner, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Jimmy said, playing along and supremely glad for the line. "They do get antsy if I'm not there when they arrive."

A slight movement of Cradle's hand brought something hard and cold against Jimmy's back. Jimmy didn't have to think twice to be reasonably sure it was a gun. "Uh…maybe you can make an excuse for me, sweetie?" he said. "I shouldn't be too late, I don't think."

In the NCIS van, they gaped on seeing Yancy's camera view of the scene. Gibbs directed, "McGee—go make sure there's no way out the back. DiNozzo and I will take the front." To Ziva and Yancy, via his mike, he said, "Don't break cover." They all scrambled.

In the ice cream shop, Agent Yancy picked up his newspaper and ambled toward the counter, bumping into Cradle on the way. "Oh, sorry, mac," he said.

For many instances, the unexpected contact would have broken one's physical connection with a third party. Not here, though. A small amount of panic washed over Cradle's face, and he shoved Jimmy toward the rear of the store.

"He is leaving by the rear exit," Ziva reported by her mike.

"_Rear exit?? Didn't we check this place out and determine it has no rear exit??"_

"It is not a public exit," Ziva said. "An emergency exit."

Gibbs cursed himself ten times over. _"Don't break cover!"_ he insisted. _"McGee will handle it."_ A switch of frequencies. _"McGee—you in position?"_

"Almost, boss," Tim panted. He'd had to run half the length of the block, and a little way around the corner to get to the alley that ran behind the buildings. "Oh, no…_Federal Agent! Freeze!"_

"_McGee! What is it!"_ But Gibbs heard the screech of tires that indicated a speeding car, and one in fact getting louder as it approached. _"McGee!"_ Gibbs and Tony pounded around to the back. On the way down the alley, they met Ziva and Yancy, tending to a bruised Tim.

"Sorry, boss," said Tim, shaken. "He got away. He had a car parked back here. He tried to run me down. Sorry."

Gibbs pulled off his swoop cap and slammed it on the ground. Sorry or not, the truth was Cradle had gotten away…and had taken Jimmy with him.

- - - - -

Ziva had gotten enough of a look at the car and the license plate number for a BOLO. She called it in, and the others stood looking in the direction the car had gone. At the moment, there was nothing more for them to do but go back to NCIS and wait and fret.

Jenny was waiting in the squad room when they returned, her face thunderous. "How could you," she said to Gibbs, quietly, menacingly, "lose a non-agent on a simple op?"

Gibbs frowned deeply. "He's not lost—yet—he's _misplaced_. And second, just whose idea was it to assign a non-agent to this op, Director?"

She didn't even blink, but continued in her icy tone. "You don't frighten me, Agent Gibbs. Who frightens me is Jake Sommers in Human Resources. He gets really nasty when one of the non-agents in our workforce gets hurt in agent territory. And I've got to pick up the phone and tell him that our lowly assistant to the medical examiner has been kidnapped by a suspected murderer!"

"We'll get him back," said Gibbs. "I swear it; we're on this case 'round the clock now. We'll get him back."

No one really believed that this was a sure thing, but Gibbs' confidence at least lifted the gloom a bit.

"McGee—"

"Back to tracing the phone and internet records on Cradle. On it."

"DiNozzo, David—"

"Any other records McGeek doesn't turn up; got it."

"I shall take the fingerprints I got from Cradle down to Abby, and see what I can get from Yancy's photos on the facial recognition program," said Ziva. Nearby, Baby Shane, aka Ike, cooed as his mother rocked him.

Ziva waited until Jenny had exited in a huff before she turned on Gibbs. "The Director was right, Gibbs! We had no business using Palmer on an op. He is a danger to himself and all of us."

"And that's your first concern?" Gibbs asked her, coldly. "That he might put us—fully trained, experienced agents—in danger?"

She blushed a little, but stood her ground. "It is wrong to use someone with so little training—with _no_ training, in Palmer's case—out in the field. Now one of the problems anyone could foresee happening has happened, and we have to spend valuable time, rescuing Palmer and possibly blowing our cover completely, when instead with a real agent, we could have been negotiating a payment for a baby and been on our way to cracking this ring wide open."

"Wow. I'm impressed," said Tony. "I think that's the longest sentence I've ever heard you utter."

"Udder?? Are you comparing me to a cow, Tony??"

Tony ducked behind Tim for protection. "No, 'utter'. U-T-T-E-R. It means, 'to say'. No bull."

"Stop clowning and get to work," Gibbs ordered. "You think you're suffering, Ziva? You're not the one who has to go tell Ducky why his assistant may not be in for awhile."

- - - - -

Usually when Ducky and Gibbs talked, Ducky gave his old friend his full attention. This afternoon, however, the doctor didn't stop sorting clean implements. Finally, Gibbs said, "Do you want us to keep you appraised, Duck? I can do that…"

Ducky place a handful of implements in a drawer forcefully. "What I want, Jethro—not that I was ever even asked about this…this _poppycock_ in the first place—"

"Duck, no one forced him into doing this. Palmer was asked if he was interested, and he readily agreed to go on the op. I was there when Jenny asked him."

"_Of course_ he agreed readily! He looks up to you agents. I think he sees only the glamour and excitement of your job, and the danger never seems real. He's young, and still a bit impressionable…damn it, Jethro; I'm too old to break in another assistant." His shoulders started to shake.

Gibbs put an arm around him. "I'll tell you what I told Jenny: we're going to get Palmer back. This is my team's number one priority now. We'll find him."

"I believe you'll find him, Jethro." Ducky stopped to blow his nose. "I have faith in you." He looked grim. "But if he isn't found sound, I may never forgive Jennifer. Or you."

- - - - -

The afternoon melted into night, and then late night. Using the cell phone "Ball" had designated for the op, Ziva tried calling the only number she had for Cradle a few times, but there was no answer. Logic had told them all early on that Cradle couldn't mean Jimmy any harm; he only wanted him to consult on medical matters, like physical exams of babies. Surely after a few hours he would return Jimmy, probably to the same area around DuPont Circle in the District. Agents (not Gibbs' team) already had the ice cream shop staked out again. This was assuming that Cradle hadn't sensed that this was a sting operation.

If he had an inkling, though—if something like Yancy's bump in the ice cream shop, or Tim's appearance in the alley, shouting at Cradle to stop (necessary though it was) had tipped Cradle off, Jimmy could be in serious trouble. Did Cradle roar away because he feared pursuit? Or was he just a maniac who always drove that way?

Abby labored with the fingerprints, which turned out to be only partials. The AFIS program ran and ran. Ziva stared numbly at the facial recognition program. It started to look like Cradle did not exist.

"He is not American-born," Ziva said at length. "He is not on any databases. We do not know his first name, or if 'Cradle' is his real last name. He covers his tracks well. He is well-educated, and has polished off his accent."

"That would make sense," Tony said thoughtfully. "If he is smuggling babies in from Central America, he'll move more easily on this side of the border if he sounds like an American."

"Check with Interpol," said Gibbs.

"On it, boss."

Gibbs looked at the clock. 11 PM. The BOLO had turned up nothing yet. There had been no word from Cradle, and he still was not answering his phone.

_You're a bright fellow, Palmer_, Gibbs thought. _You can think your way out of this._

- - - - -

At Dulles Airport, three men sat quietly in the waiting area. One appeared to be napping. The plane for Miami, which would go on to Caracas, was announced ready for boarding.

On either side of the sleeping man, the other two nudged him awake. "It's time, Doctor Base," Cradle whispered to him.

"Wha—where are we going?" Jimmy said drowsily.

"We're going to throw off anyone who might be tailing us," Cradle said. "They'll only think we're going to Venezuela. But that's not our destination at all."

"But I—I—my parents are coming to dinner tonight," Jimmy said, remembering.

"Everyone has many identities in their lifetime, young man," Cradle smirked. "Your old life is over. You are about to start a new one."

Jimmy shuddered. In his drug-fogged mind he went through everything the Director had taught him in her two-hour crash course. Now, if he could only choose the right action at the right time…


	3. Bound for Venezuela

**_Chapter Three: Bound for Venezuela_**

- - - - -

Jimmy's cell phone vibrated in his pocket, and this startled him. He'd turned the phone off before he and Ziva entered the ice cream shop. He must have jostled it back to an on position. It was not possible to answer it now, while Cradle and the other man were with him. Stifling a sigh, he let it go over to voice mail. _Wait…as long as my phone's on, they can still find me by GPS, right?_

He felt like a total dunce when he realized he'd never been given an agency phone to use for the operation. They'd said he wouldn't need one; that Ziva would handle all the calls. He remembered feeling humbled and a trifle upset by that, and so had made sure that he had his own phone with him. Just in case he needed it—like now. _But the team probably doesn't know my cell number. None of them have ever called me. It's probably Mom who's been calling. Lot of help she'd be right now!_

"I, uh, need to go to the men's room," he announced suddenly.

Cradle eyed the gate service counter. What had earlier started to be a boarding announcement had turned into a delay as a small mechanical failure was found on the plane. There appeared to be no rush to board now. "Take him," he said to the other man. "Make sure he does not fall in. But listen for boarding announcements."

"Yes, sir," said the nameless other man, who rose with Jimmy and motioned to the nearby men's room. "Don't try to escape," he hissed.

Jimmy gulped and nodded. Once alone in a stall, though, he pulled out his phone. As he expected, the call was from his mother, and there was an older one, from about two hours ago, from Ducky. He didn't dare retrieve the voice mail messages, but he had to get through to someone. He didn't know any of the team's numbers, he realized in a panic, before forcing himself to calm down. There was only one person at NCIS whose number was in his phone directory. Jimmy quickly typed out a text message.

- - - - -

In the squad room, Gibbs' team continued to work, with the help of the MacInnis couple (baby Shane's parents). Dan MacInnis, a computer whiz, worked at Tim's side. Marcie MacInnis, nearby, tapped a little more slowly at another computer, while gently rocking Shane's stroller back and forth.

"_Jethro!"_ Ducky's shout was loud in Gibbs' ear over his cell phone. Gibbs knew that the doctor had gone home hours ago. _"I just received a text message from young Palmer! Cradle has him prisoner at Dulles Airport, and they're waiting for a flight to Venezuela!"_

"Thanks, Duck!" Gibbs snapped the phone off. "They're at Dulles. Let's move!" He was already on his feet, grabbing his gear. The team did likewise. "DiNozzo, call the airport. Tell them to hold all planes with a destination of Venezuela!" They raced out, with Gibbs silently thanking Jimmy for having finally turned on his cell phone.

En route, Tim determined that three airlines had flights to Caracas from Dulles, but only Hemisphere Airlines had a flight out in the next six hours. That flight was due to take off now, but had been delayed.

"It was probably something Palmer did that delayed it," Ziva grumbled.

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" said Tony.

"You have not been stuck with that…_bumbler_ for the last week," Ziva said sourly. "In that time, he has dropped my handbag twice, stepped on my foot three times, almost called me by my real name once, forgot to turn on his wire twice, and got us lost four times. He would never make agent. He would wash up in FLETC in a day."

" 'Wash out of,' " Tim corrected. "Give the guy a break. He's trying. He knows he's no agent. He's doing the best he can."

"It is not good enough. I have high standards, yes, but that is because I expect good results. I cannot work well with someone who is going to drag me down. I almost hope he _does_ go to Venezuela, and does not come back."

Tony and Tim winced. "That's cold, Ziva," said Tim.

"I am merely stating a wish."

"Button it, David," Gibbs snapped. "Palmer is NCIS. We're going to get him back. We take care of our own."

Ziva fell silent, but it didn't stop her from thinking. _This would have gone better from the start with a real agent as my partner…_

- - - - -

They made it to the airport, and breezed through security by virtue of their IDs. "Boss, how're we going to get close enough to them to apprehend them without risk to Palmer?" asked Tim.

"Man, you guys are hard to catch up to!" came a cheerful voice behind them. It was Dan MacInnis, with Marcie and the baby just behind him. "We had to do some fast driving to keep you in our sights!"

"Dan—Marcie—this is no place for Shane," Gibbs said with the tiniest amount of scolding. "This isn't your op now. Go home. Keep Shane safe."

"You might need us, Gibbs," Marcie said, stubbornly. Shane woke up then and started to fuss. She lifted him out of the stroller and put him to her shoulder.

"Not a chance. Get out of here."

"Technically, we're on our own time, Gibbs," Dan said. "We'll stay out of the way if we're not needed, but we're not leaving."

"I think Palmer really is related to you," said Ziva, shaking her head.

Gibbs looked at her, and then the stroller. "That may be our way to get close to them. Ziva, you'll resume your role as 'Ball' again to Palmer's 'Base'. DiNozzo—"

"Yeah, boss?"

"Go over to that gift shop and buy a baby doll, about Shane's size."

Tony looked uncomfortable. "Buy a baby doll? Why _me_, boss?"

"Because it amuses me to have you do so. Get moving!!"

Tony was back in a few minutes. "No go, boss. The only dolls they had were baby girls, with non-detachable pink hats that practically screamed _I am a girl._ That won't do for baby Ike." He added with a mutter, "Poor kid would be in therapy for _years_."

Gibbs closed his eyes. "I guess we'll have to use Shane, then. Dan, Marcie—"

The couple was smiling. "We trust you, Gibbs," Marcie said, putting a hand on his arm. "Your team is the best. I know you won't let anything happen to our baby boy."

Nodding, Gibbs locked eyes with Ziva. She swallowed hard. Never had anyone's protection been so important to her.

- - - - -

"_Attention, passengers on Hemisphere Airlines flight 87 to Miami, continuing on to Caracas. While we are waiting on the repair of the aircraft, which make take some time, we are going to put you on the aircraft coming in now from Lima via Miami. It is scheduled to touch down in 10 minutes at the next gate down. Please allow us about 15 minutes to clean the aircraft after the passengers have disembarked, and then we will board you as quickly as possible. We thank you for your patience, and for flying Hemisphere Airlines."_

"Well, that gives us a little time," said Gibbs as the announcement ended. Ziva handed him her NCIS jacket and swoop cap and ran to the ladies' room to make herself look a little more like the mommy "Ball" again.

The team had stopped about four gates short of the gate for flight 87, not wanting to be spotted. "I see them, Tim said at last, training opera glasses down the long terminal. "Palmer's flanked by Cradle and another guy. They're facing us. It'll be hard to approach them without being seen."

"We could come in off the tarmac; get one of the staff to let us in," said Tony, fingering his badge.

"Take too long, particularly if we can't convince them right away," said Tim. "Besides, if the door alarm goes off—everyone will look that way."

"Or if Palmer does something wrong," said Ziva.

Gibbs gave her a stern look, and then spoke very quietly. "If you can't play a loving wife, concerned about her husband, then you're more of a liability to this op than he is."

She blushed and turned silent.

Gibbs looked at the MacInnises, and then handed them his coat and hat, along with Ziva's. He motioned for Tony and Tim to do the same. They'd be going in in plain clothes, hoping that Cradle hadn't gotten a good look at Tim back in the alley. Slowly Gibbs' team started off: Ziva in the lead, pushing the stroller; the men hanging back, walking alone, more slowly.

- - - - -

"Ah, blast the delays," Cradle muttered. "We will be late getting into Caracas; very late." He, Jimmy and the other man rose with the crowd at their gate to move to the next gate down.

"Cradle, wait. I see someone," said the other man. "That young man in the brown suit—he was in the alley. He is NCIS!"

Cradle swore. "How could they have found us?? How?? We must get out of here—"

At that moment the gate doors opened, and passengers on the Lima/Miami flight spilled out. But this was not your average passenger list: nearly all were in groups of threes: man, woman and baby or small child.

"Boss—" said Tony, edging towards Gibbs.

"I know," Gibbs said simply, and flicked his phone on. "Dan—you and Marcie need to detain all of the passengers from this flight at Immigration. _All_ of them. This may be part of the baby-smuggling ring."

Unfortunately for the team, Cradle and his group had taken cover in the swarm of laughing, happy new parents. They'd have to move fast before Cradle vanished at another gate.

Ziva forcefully pushed the stroller through the crowd. "HONEY!" she called on finally spotting Jimmy. "Honey! I just had to catch up with you before you left—to let you give Ike a goodbye kiss—" _It is not going to work. Palmer looks too frightened to play-act._

Still 20 feet away, and the wiggling crowd did not want to let her through. "DEAR!" she called again. "Wait, please!" She stopped, picked up sleepy Ike from the stroller, and tried to look pitiful.

"What is your wife doing here?" Cradle demanded, giving Jimmy a shove. "How did she find us?"

"I—I don't know. She's very clever?" Jimmy said, hoping that was a good answer.

Tim had gotten to the lead of the team. "Federal agents! Freeze!" he cried, drawing his gun. Screaming, the parents and their new children ran off in all directions.

"This was a trap, Cradle!" the other man exclaimed.

Cradle let go of Jimmy to draw his own gun, one made of materials invisible to the security scanners. He was leveling it at Tim, who was coming up fast, but actually Ziva and Shane were in the way.

"_No! You can't!!"_ Jimmy screamed, and jumped in front of Cradle's gun. He heard a loud noise—and then nothing as he fell into a billowing mass of gray that grew darker and darker and...


	4. The Second Attempt

**_Chapter Four: The Second Attempt_**

- - - - -

Gibbs swore up and down as he and Tim disarmed Cradle and his associate and cuffed them. Ziva did the right thing: although her first instinct was to see to her fallen co-worker, she instead sought out Marcie and returned baby Shane to his tearful mother's arms. Ziva sensed that the MacInnises might not be too quick to volunteer Shane's services again soon.

Tony tended to Jimmy, who was out cold, and breathing with difficulty. The bullet appeared to have punctured a lung. All Tony could do was press down on the wound, and hope that the airport EMTs would arrive soon.

They did. "He was shot," Tony said, mostly because his mouth insisted on moving. "And he's diabetic, if that makes any difference."

"We'll do our best, sir," said one of EMTs. "Something else?"

"Uh…just that he's one of the good guys. A slightly foolish, but very brave man. Take good care of him, will you?" He felt silly for saying it, but he didn't entirely regret it. Jimmy was swiftly loaded on a gurney, and whisked away, the EMT mini-vehicle's siren wailing.

Ziva came back, and looked like she needed a hug. Tony gave her one.

- - - - -

_Next week…_

"It doesn't wrap up the case," Tim groused from his desk, staring at the reams of bank account numbers dancing across the monitor. "It's just making it bigger."

"Yeah. Too bad we don't get extra points when the case gets bigger," Tony grinned.

Ziva looked puzzled. "You get points?"

"Redeemable for nothing at all," said Gibbs, strolling in with a fresh coffee. "Where are we at?"

Tim spoke up. "Uh, Cradle's associate –Nevy—has a lot of bank accounts overseas. Close to a hundred, each in a different country."

"That's how they launder the money for the baby sales," Tony remarked. "Do it all in local currency. That way it's never too large to reach notice by the local authorities."

Gibbs nodded. "Makes sense. When they start reaching large numbers, they pull out of that country for awhile, and go to another. There are plenty of places where babies can be stolen…or sold…to traffickers. There are impoverished parents who need the money, and hope for a better life for their child. And crooks who think nothing of stealing a baby left unattended for a moment."

"We were close," Ziva murmured. "If only Palmer had gotten on that flight…if only he'd been better…"

"Better than what?!" Tim snapped, getting up. "Ziva, Jimmy Palmer took a bullet that was aimed at me. He saved my life. He probably saved yours too, and Shane's, since you were more or less in Cradle's line of fire. I'd say he did pretty well."

"That is not the point," said Ziva, who hated to be proved wrong. "I am sorry that Palmer got shot, and I am glad that he is recovering. But Palmer is not an agent. We should have had an agent in his place."

"Yes, but that wasn't possible, so stop obsessing about it," Gibbs ordered. "DiNozzo; what do you have?"

"Immigration records for Nevy's false adoption agency. So far, none of the babies pictured match the pictures in the I-94 visas on file with Homeland Security. In fact, I have five cases so far in which the same picture has been used more than once."

"Someone's been working with Nevy, even though he insists he's been working alone," said Gibbs. "Wife? Brother? Sister? Landlord? Find this other person, people! We've got to stop the baby chain."

- - - - -

Weeks went by without a break in the case. There was not sufficient evidence to connect either Cradle (whose real name was _Leroy Jones_, as if anyone believed that) or Nevy to the murders of the Marine and his wife that had started NCIS' involvement. Despite NCIS' protests, a judge had released both men on bail in relation to the baby-smuggling charges, despite the shooting (which their lawyers claimed was a sad accident). And so the smuggling continued, and the case cooled.

A month after being shot, Jimmy Palmer returned to work, under light duty. The wound in his lung had almost fully healed, and Jimmy felt pretty good. Ducky, however, became overly-protective of his protégé, and would not permit Jimmy to do any heavy lifting, so the seaman NCIS had taken on to help Ducky remained in place for the time being.

But while Ducky felt he was being kind toward Jimmy, Jimmy saw only that work he'd used to do being handed to Seaman Schorr; even the stuff that wasn't heavy lifting. Schorr, a cheerful fellow some years younger than Jimmy, seemed to grow more and more interested in the work, and voiced a desire to study to be an EMT or a nurse when he got out of the service. Schorr drove the truck, lifted bodies with ease, and handed Ducky implements in Autopsy. It seemed to Jimmy that he was never on his feet for very long before Ducky was advising Jimmy to take a break.

On top of that, he felt like a fool for the incident at the airport. He didn't regret getting in front of the gun, for he had seen that Ziva wasn't looking that way then, or she wouldn't have picked up the baby. It wasn't that he had a death wish. He just couldn't bear the thought of his coworkers getting hurt, if there was something he could do to prevent it.

There had been brief visits paid to him in the hospital by all of them; they were full of cheer and yet had little to say. Only Ducky paid him long visits, and Jimmy was glad for that; even glad for Ducky's rambling stories. When after two weeks Jimmy was discharged to home, it was Ducky who escorted him there, and saw that he had enough food. Ducky visited him almost every other day, and Gibbs came by once, but that was it. Ducky arranged, over Jimmy's protests, for a woman to come in and clean twice a week, and paid for it himself.

Then one day, things changed.

"Mr. Palmer," Ducky called to him from across the room, "the Director would like to see you upstairs." A brief look that might be worry crossed his face, before he returned to what he was doing. "Seaman Schorr, please put the Corporal on the table."

Feeling dismissed before he could ask a question, Jimmy took off his scrubs, tidied up, and went up to Jenny's office.

Gibbs was there, along with Ziva. "Have a seat, Jimmy," Jenny invited, and they all settled in around the conference table.

"An old foe has come back," Jenny continued. "And it involves you, Jimmy. Or at least it did. You're not an agent, so you're free to say no and walk away from this at any time, and we won't think any less of you, I assure you."

"You didn't say _I_ could say no to including him," Gibbs said with an edge to his voice.

"Nor I," said Ziva, with a cold look at Jimmy.

Jenny ignored them. "Do you know what we're talking about, Jimmy?"

He felt his heart rate increase, and that dull ache in his lung pang him more. "Something about the baby-smuggling? Is Cradle involved again?"

"Yes, he's back, and acting like he has impunity. Our sources say he's still looking to consult with a doctor."

"And you want me to play Base again."

"Yes. Yes, if you're really willing."

"It's ridiculous, Jen," said Gibbs. "Chances are Cradle already associates Palmer with us…"

"I don't think so. Neither Jimmy nor Ziva were in NCIS garb at the airport gate, by your statement. There would be little reason for Cradle and Nevy to think that Jimmy and Ziva were with NCIS."

"I'm in!" Jimmy said eagerly.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Palmer. Listen to the duty requirements first," Ziva sighed.

Jenny outlined the plan. Jimmy would meet with Cradle at a neutral place—a restaurant—to negotiate his work for them. He would be doing this only because he and his wife were desperate for a baby without having to pay the tens of thousands of dollars. He would refuse to leave the US, but would be willing to work with babies brought here."

"I don't mind leaving the country," Jimmy spoke up.

"Well, I _do_ mind," said Jenny. "All you need to do is examine one baby. One baby with forged papers will be enough for us to nail them, and then trace them back to the murders. We'll arrange space for you to work at a hospital; I'm thinking George Washington or Howard. I know people at both places.

"This time, Jimmy, you'll be going in not only with a wire, but a bulletproof vest, an agency cell phone, and Ziva at your side throughout. Plus we'll have agents in plain clothes just feet away. You couldn't be safer."

"And, uh, baby Shane?" Jimmy asked.

"He's getting an understudy," Jenny said with a wry smile, and produced a baby doll wearing baby boy clothes. "Now, are you _sure_ you're willing to do this? Think carefully."

"I want to help catch these guys," Jimmy said, struggling to tamp down his eagerness.

_And we thought McGee was such a boy scout,_ Ziva thought sadly.


	5. Pediatrician

**_Chapter Five: Pediatrician_**

- - - - -

"This way," said the intern, and led them to a room at an end of the hospital wing. "Understand, you mustn't do anything to call attention to yourselves. If you do, I'll be first in line to turn you in."

Jimmy nodded, and squeezed his "wife's" hand in reassurance. Ziva gave him a surprised glance. _Where had all this confidence come from?_

Three days had passed since the meeting in Jenny's office. At a restaurant meeting yesterday with "Base" and "Ball", Cradle had readily agreed to have "Base" try again to do his doctoring mission, and had even offered a few words of regret for having "accidentally" fired on him. Cradle wasn't pleased to have "Ball" accompany them, but had reluctantly accepted her when she said she controlled the household finances, and wanted to be sure they were getting the right end of the deal. Now should be the final test: If they could get enough evidence on Cradle this time, the baby smuggling ring could be broken.

"There will not be any attention," said Cradle, close behind Jimmy and Ziva. "We shall be invisible." When the intern held out his palm, Cradle counted out a number of bills and placed them in his hand. "There. Now go bring us the first patient."

"Sorry. Change of plans," said the intern, while pocketing the money and taking a step away. "I'm on shift now. I can't hang around here." He was gone quickly.

Cable scowled. "You, then, Ms. Ball. You will bring in the clients."

"Why do you not do it?" Ziva asked.

"Because I chose not to. You will do as I say."

"It's all right, honey," said Jimmy, sensing Ziva's tension. "Maybe it will help you keep from getting bored." He actually smiled.

"_Can't you think of another way?"_ Gibbs' voice sounded in Ziva's ear via the earwig. _"Don't leave Palmer alone with him!"_

"Perhaps, dear, you could go bring in the clients?" she suggested to Jimmy.

He looked thoughtful. "Well, sure. Nothing wrong with that," he said. "Who's the first one?"

Cable consulted his list. "The Hart family, with the baby they have called Emily."

"Got it. Hart family. Emily Hart. Emily Hart," Jimmy said to himself under his breath, trying to memorize it. He slipped on the lab coat that the intern had left for him.

_He is so dedicated to this…_ Ziva thought, and was surprised to realize her feelings had changed. Jimmy had been shot, and almost killed, but his courage was unwavering. He was not a special agent, true. But maybe his acting ability would see them through. There was no one else at NCIS HQ, save Ducky, who could convincingly play a doctor.

She must have had a contented look on her face as Jimmy walked out, for Cable said to her, "You love him very much, don't you?"

"Well, yes! Of course I do," Ziva said, surprised, fighting to stay in her role. _Love Jimmy…?!_

"And you have been married for how long?"

"Four years."

"Four years. Imagine that. How quiet your little baby is today," Cable said, eyeing the stroller. "He has not made a sound."

Ziva gently pulled the stroller closer to her. "We kept him up all morning so that he would be sleeping this afternoon," she said softly, indicating that a loud sound might undo the morning's work. She held her breath as Cradle leaned over the stroller.

"He is all bundled up. Do you think that is wise, in this heat?" Cradle said.

"My husband knows best," said Ziva. Of course they were letting as little of the doll show as possible.

"Perhaps you should loosen the garments just a little. The face looks almost waxy."

Ziva forced a smile. "He favors me. Darker skin than my husband's."

Jimmy's return halted any further discussion. "Uh, have a seat," he said to the happy new parents, and smiled. The office was small, and Ziva vacated her seat so both parents could sit. "My wife," Jimmy said as the Harts looked at Ziva curiously. "Just here to keep me company for a little while."

"Hi," said Ziva with an exaggerated smile.

"Now, let's see the little one," Jimmy picked the dark-haired 6-month-old from her adoptive mother's arms, and set her gently on the examination table. He listened to her heart and lungs, took her blood pressure, looked in her ears, her eyes, and her throat. Emily gurgled and yanked at his stethoscope. "Everything looks fine," said Jimmy. "Does she have a vaccination record?"

"Um, of course," said Mr. Hart, although he appeared to be sweating. "It's in Spanish, though. Our baby is from Chile."

"That's okay." Jimmy glanced at the document. "I'll need to make a copy of it, and we'll have one of our translators translate it. I'll also need to see her entry visa."

"You do not need that, doctor," Cradle spoke up. "I have all those papers. I will take care of that."

That was unexpected. They needed that evidence. "It would make more sense to have that and the immunization record all together," said Jimmy.

"Leave the immunization record copy with me. I can translate it myself," said Cradle.

Ziva didn't need Gibbs to tell her that that wasn't acceptable. "Surely the Harts have the original form I-94 visa, dear?" she said to Jimmy. "You could make a copy of that."

Mrs. Hart smiled at her. "Yes, of course we do. Let me get that out for you, Doctor." She rummaged in her purse.

"That is not necessary, Mrs. Hart," Cradle protested. "I am making all the arrangements."

"It _is_ necessary," said Jimmy. "The hospital has to have a copy on record, in case of an audit."

Cradle glared as Jimmy handed Emily to Mr. Hart and accepted the documents from his wife. "Huh. I forgot that there's not a photocopier in this office anymore," Jimmy said in a brilliant bit of improvisation. "I'll just take these up to the one at the nurse's station." He headed for the door.

"I will come with you, Doctor," said Cradle. "You are new here. The nurses may not know you yet."

"They're not going to stop someone from using the photocopier," said Jimmy airily. "I'll give them a dime for each page if they complain."

"Nonetheless…the rest of you can stay here and…talk about babies," said Cradle, giving Jimmy a slight push out the door.

Mrs. Hart leaned over Ziva's stroller, prepared to coo. Then her brow wrinkled. "That's not a baby! You have a _doll_ in there!!"

"What…??" Cradle turned back in alarm.

Ziva bit back the _Go!_ cry she wanted to say to Jimmy. He was on his own now…well, the team was _somewhere_ nearby. She had to try to slow down Cradle, and also keep the Harts safe.

Jimmy evaded Cradle's grasp, and was out the door, running; his lab coat flapping. _Where were Gibbs and the rest of them? I've got to get these papers to them…proof of the fake documents…_"Where _are_ you guys??" he said into his tiny mike.

"_One floor below you, Palmer. Coming your way. Stay calm,"_ said Tony in his ear.

"Oh…crap! It's that other guy! Nevy! And he sees me!"

"_Stay calm!"_

- - - - -

Back in the small office, Cradle stared in disbelief, and then snatched the doll from the stroller. Ziva's gun was in her hand instantly. "Stay where you are!" she directed. "Federal agent!"

The Harts screamed and dove for cover. Cradle was too quick, though, and grabbed Mrs. Hart, sticking her between himself and Ziva. Mr. Hart cried out, but his arms were full with his baby.

Cradle eased out the door, an anaconda grip on Mrs. Hart, while pulling a gun of his own out with his other hand. "Stay back," he snapped, "or she dies."

Ziva sent the stroller toward Mr. Hart. "Here. A present. Get your child out of here; we will look after your wife." She edged out the door. Cradle and Mrs. Hart were already about 70 feet down the corridor.

"_Security!"_ an observant nurse yelled on seeing Mrs. Hart in distress. "Call Security!"

Jimmy was almost to the stairs, but turned back at the commotion. "Let her go!" he yelled at Cradle. "You want these documents? You've got to come get them!" He danced and waved the papers tantalizingly.

_No, Jimmy!_ Ziva thought in despair. _Keep running! Get the papers to Gibbs! Keep yourself safe!_ She kept her gun out, though she knew it was unlikely she could get off a shot that wouldn't endanger an innocent person.

"Give those to me!" Cradle growled as he came close.

Jimmy shook his head. "Not even a consideration unless you let Mrs. Hart go."

"You idiot! I have a _gun!!"_

"Yes, and you've already shot me once," said Jimmy, amazing even himself with his calmness. _Wasn't that what Tony said? To stay calm?_ "I'm not afraid of you."

Cradle only gaped, astounded by the man's apparent sense of invulnerability. And that was when Jimmy took advantage, and delivered a karate-type chop to Cradle's gun arm.

The rest was over in a minute, as Ziva, Gibbs, Tony and Tim appeared all at once, taking Cradle and Nevy into custody, and getting the Harts back together. They had their evidence; but to be on the safe side, they rounded up the four other new adoptive couples from the waiting room. The ring was broken at last.

"You took such a big risk, Jimmy," Ziva said, her eyes wide. _When did I stop calling him 'Palmer'?_

He blushed a little, and grinned. "My mother always said I was a ham actor."

- - - - -

By the end of the afternoon, they were all seated in Jenny's office. Even Ducky had invited himself to catch up on what had happened. He sat next to his protégé with an ear-splitting grin.

"Well done, Jimmy," said Jenny when the wrap-up concluded. "Very well done. I think you'll be put up for a commendation."

"Aw, that's not really necessary, Director…" Jimmy said, blushing. "I was just—"

"Shut up, Palmer, and take it," the others said. Jimmy fell back silent and a little pleased.

The Director's schedule is a busy one, and when the meeting was over, it was over. Jimmy was one of the first out the door, for he knew that there was a lot of work waiting for him in Autopsy. Being a pseudo-agent had been fun, but he wouldn't want to do it all the time. Medicine…particularly dead bodies…now that was where his joy in life came from.

"Jimmy! Wait!"

He turned at Ziva's call, and waved to Ducky to go on ahead. The older man smiled.

Ziva pulled Jimmy into a vacant office. "I just wanted to say…I am sorry that I did not believe in you at the beginning."

He looked a little uncomfortable. "I knew you didn't. And I guess I don't blame you; there's a lot more to being a special agent than I thought."

"But you did very well!"

He sighed. "No, like I said earlier, I'm a ham actor. I had a lot of luck—other than getting shot that time. You probably thought I took foolish risks."

_How to make him understand…?_ "The Director would not put you up for a commendation if she thought your actions were foolish. Yes, you took risks. But you made them look like _calculated_ risks, perhaps by instinct. And that is what a good agent does."

Jimmy smiled a wavering smile. "Really?"

"Certainly! You tried to protect everyone…the Harts, the bystanders, me, the baby…" she smiled, a little slyly. "There is a lot to you, Jimmy. I think I would like to get to know you better."

"You would??"

"Yes, I would. Maybe you would like me to cook you dinner? Say, Friday night?"

"You would? I mean, I would!"

She reached up and crossed her hands behind his neck, and reeled him in. "And you know, Jimmy, I think you would make a wonderful father."

"A baby?" he squawked. "Uh, Ziva—"

"Shut up and kiss me. We will discuss details later."

"Um…okay…"

"_Ziva! Where are you?!"_ Gibbs rang in her ear. She pulled out the earwig and dropped it, and then leaned back into the kiss.

- THE END -


End file.
